


Like A Doll

by thegingermidget



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Consensual Sex, Fluff, Hand Jobs, M/M, cross dressing, skirt fic!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-15
Updated: 2017-02-15
Packaged: 2018-09-24 12:43:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9727385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegingermidget/pseuds/thegingermidget
Summary: Yuuri and Victor have decided to choose the costume the other will wear for their free skate in the upcoming season. After weeks of waiting, both costumes have finally come in and it's time to see the finished product. Yuuri is nervous he may have gone too far with Victor's costume design. Will he like the result?





	

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for @xchaoticclarityx on tumblr for the yoi-secret-valentines gift exchange!

The wind blew snow off of the rooftops down onto the street below. Even when the sky was bright blue, It seemed to never stop snowing in Russia. Yuuri practically ran from the taxi up the steps to his and Victor’s apartment. He had just come back from leaving Makkachin at the groomers.

“Yuuri, it’s here!”

“What?” Yuuri asked as he climbed the stairs. He stamped snow off of his feet with each step and tossed the dog leash onto the couch.

“Your costume arrived!” Victor was practically vibrating with excitement as he lead Yuuri into the kitchen where a brown box sat expectantly on the counter.

Following the last season, the two of them had taken a much-needed break to rest and stop thinking about skating for a few weeks at least. Yuuri packed his bags and moved to Russia to live with Victor. 

The last few weeks had been amazing. Yuuri loved seeing Saint Petersburg through Victor’s eyes. It was hard for him to call this cold, gray city home, but Victor made it brighter somehow. Yuuri had lived far from Hatsetsu before, going to school in the US had been his first time living in another country, on his own. The US had never felt like this, though. It had never started to feel like home. 

As they had begun training for the next season, it was time to decide on a program. Victor was going to choreograph his own programs and Yuuri’s short program. They had decided together that Yuuri would work on choreographing his own free skate. 

Once the music and theme of the program had been decided on, it was time to send their measurements out to a designer so that their costumes could be ready as soon as possible. 

The two of them had agreed that they would get to choose what the other wore for their short programs. They both knew the pieces each of them had selected, the routines the other had planned, and the theme chosen for their programs. It showed a tremendous amount of trust in one another.

Yuuri trusted Victor to choose something that would make a statement and be appropriate for his program. He just wasn’t sure if he trusted Victor enough to not put him in something scandalous. 

“I was really tempted to peek,” said Victor with a smile, “but I’m so glad I don’t have to wait any longer.” 

He gave Yuuri the package and offered a peck on the cheek as he headed for their bedroom. 

“Mine’s still hidden in the closet, right?” he called from inside.

“You weren’t supposed to know about that,” said Yuuri half under his breath. “Yes.”

Victor came out, box in hand. “You can go first, model it for me, and then I’ll try mine on.”

“We’re really going to do this now?” asked Yuuri, eyeing the box he had yet to touch, nervous about what he was going to find.

“Of course! I’ve waited weeks to see how your costume looks. You wouldn’t make me wait longer, would you?”

Yuuri grabbed the package and headed to the bedroom. He tossed the box on the bed and began to take off his shirt. His fingers shook slightly at each button. 

He couldn’t say why he was so nervous. Victor had decent fashion sense, didn’t he? The news reporters and fansites seemed to think so. Yuuri couldn’t really tell; Victor was absolutely stunning wearing nothing at all, he could probably make a burlap sack look good. 

He wasn’t sure whether he was reassured by this thought or not, perhaps made more nervous by imagining Victor skating naked. Straddling the line between okay and anxious about what he was about to find, Yuuri recalled Yuri Plisetsky’s short program outfit, taken from one of Victor’s old programs. Maybe he did have a reason to fear whatever creation was in that box.

No. No. This was silly. Sure, the costume had arrived later than expected and now there was now time to find something else in time for the first competition, but was it honestly going to be that bad? Maybe, but probably not.

After negotiating the impossible tape and plastic wrapping on the box, he took a breath and opened the flaps. The fabric was white and black. He took it between his fingers and pulled it out all the way.

The top was seen to the bottom to create a leotard that didn’t look like one. The costume was fairly plain; made to look like a white buttoned down shirt and dress pants. 

This seemed like a fairly conservative choice for Victor, until he checked the box again and found a tie and a blazing scarlet jacket. 

The clothes fit perfectly. It was a relief to know that they wouldn't have to fuss with getting the costume tailored on short notice. Still, upon seeing himself in the mirror, Yuuri thought something looked off. 

Something about this outfit just didn't seem right. He didn't want to hurt Victor’s feelings by telling him this, but he also didn't want his program to suffer.

The lines of the outfit were expertly tailored, and the fabric was unlike anything Yuuri had worn before. It should have been perfect and yet, the person in the mirror looked uncomfortable. He looked like a doll dressed up in new clothes that didn't belong to his set. 

With a breath, he went back outside.

Upon seeing Yuuri, Victor’s expression didn't change. His eyes were steady and his face was light, but Yuuri couldn't read what was going through Victor’s mind from his features.

“What do you think?” asked Yuuri.

Victor purses his lips and rose from the couch to inspect him. “It doesn't matter what I think, this is really about you.” He circled Yuuri, scanning him predatorily from head to foot. “But I think you should be wearing it properly before you say anything.”

Coming around to face him again, Victor smiled. First, he reached for Yuuri’s glasses and gently pulled them from his face. Yuuri’s vision blurred, he was practically blind without them. 

“Much as I love the way you look in these, you don’t skate in them. I’ll grab your contacts.” 

Back in a moment, Yuuri was reunited with proper eyesight. With the glasses set aside, Victor moved his hands lower. They caressed his jawline down to the arch of his neck. Those fingers expertly untied Yuuri’s black bow tie but made no move to fix it or cast it aside. He left it hanging loose and moved to unfasten the top buttons of his shirt.

Victor stepped back with the discerning gaze turned on Yuuri's figure once again. 

“I would love to see you with some eyeliner…” he murmured mostly to himself, in a voice that teased Yuuri with its low and lovely timbre. 

Victor’s eyes took in his whole form, but Yuuri had gotten used to not flinching away. As a coach, Victor had seen and known Yuuri’s flaws and weaknesses as well as his greatest strengths. As a friend and fiancé, Victor knew the same. Perhaps he didn't know all there was to know about Yuuri Katsuki yet, but he saw the depths of his character and wanted to know it always.

With a second close inspection, Victor stepped forward and ran his hands through Yuuri's hair. He focused on styling Yuuri's hair but his concentration was constantly dragged away by the way Yuuri worried at his lip when faced with uncertainty and the way Yuuri batted his eyelashes as he stared back into Victor's eyes. 

For a final time, Victor stepped back to admire his work. 

“Red is a really great color for you…” He couldn’t control the soft adoration coloring his voice. Again, he was unable to stop himself from speaking. He cleared his throat and said, “You should take another look.”

“Just a quick look. Don’t forget, you still have to try on yours.”

“I can’t wait.” 

The new figure in the mirror wasn’t too different from the old. His shoulders were lower and more relaxed. The hair and the few undone buttons were probably meant to seem sexy. Yuuri couldn’t really see it, both figuratively and literally, since he wasn’t wearing his contacts. Somehow these small changes seemed enormous. He held himself differently. There was a kind of confidence and swagger to him that wasn’t hidden behind a pretense of feminine wiles.

He went back out to the couch where Victor was lounging. “Alright, get in there.” 

Victor bit back his lip and his eyes followed Yuuri as he left, unable to look away. He was glad the blush in his cheeks had waited until Victor had left to color his face.

Now Yuuri was nervous once again. He had consulted a tailor to design this particular and very custom costume. It was unlike anything Yuuri had seen on the ice before, something he hoped Victor would appreciate. The outfit would shock and surprise the world, and Yuuri desperately wanted to see it on Victor. 

After a few minutes, a voice came from the bedroom. “Y-Yuuri?” called Victor. 

“Yes?”

“Where’s… Where is the rest of it?”

Yuuri realized he was holding his breath. “It’s all there, I checked.” 

There was a moment of silence, Victor didn’t answer. “Put it on and let me see!”

The air in the apartment was completely still.

Yuuri sat on pins and needles waiting for Victor to come out. Did he hate it? It was a little too quiet it the bedroom. Was he even putting it on? What if this was a huge mistake? There was no way to fix it now.

Five minutes passed and Yuuri couldn’t take it anymore. He came to the bedroom door and gave it a sharp knock. “Victor?”

“Just a minute, Yuuri. I’ll be right out.” If it had been difficult to read Victor when they were face to face, this was impossible.

Yuuri could feel sweat under his arms by the time he heard the bedroom door open. The bedroom was down the hall from the kitchen, and far from the eye-line of the couch. All Yuuri could hear was a soft, slow click... click… marking the footsteps of Victor coming down the hall. 

A year ago, Victor had told him and Yuri Plisetsky that it was impossible to choose one’s image, that the public has an idea of who you are before you ever set foot on the ice. You could try to change that image, but to do that, you need to do something they would never expect. 

In Victor’s last competitive season, he had set his free skate to the song “Stammi Vicino” and some fans felt that the choice was too much of a departure from what they expected of him. It had been a beautiful program but would have been more compelling if it came from someone younger and more innocent. To them, Victor was a god, someone who screamed mature sex appeal, someone who was worldly, impressive, the best skater in the world.

He wasn’t delicate, shy, or unsure. He wasn’t soft or demure. 

This costume changed that.

“Take it off.” said Yuuri, in what he hoped was the same impenetrable tone Victor had used earlier.

Victor cocked his head like Makkachin did when he was confused. The sudden insecurity on his face completed the look. 

He felt honored by Victor's surprise. Victor strove to shock the world and bring it to its knees. This felt like a victory beyond all others.

He wore black three-inch stiletto heels. Yuuri had ordered them for this moment, to give Victor the extra height he lacked without his skates. Then the eye was drawn up his mile long legs, scandalously bare aside from the tights, transparent and colored in Victor’s skin tone. Yuuri’s height stopped as the naked skin stretched farther than was appropriate, all the way up to the upper thigh.

There were female skaters who didn't wear skirts this short. The actual ensemble didn't allow the spectator to catch anything truly improper. A navy blue skirt hung mere inches from the hip bone. The fabric was dotted with crystals like stars on a dark night. 

A deep vee sliced down the breast of the dress, going down almost to the navel. The shoulders too were left bare with only a design of gemstones gathered together to make icy fractures, a pattern mimicked by the bracelets Victor wore on each wrist.

Perhaps the ensemble should have been comical on a man usually so imposing as Victor, but the instability of his shoes and Victor’s sudden eagerness to please made him utterly beautiful.

Yuuri’s face flushed at the sudden hardness between his legs.

“Take it off.” he repeated, trying not to let his voice crack. 

Victor teetered on the heels, his balance a mercurial thing. His hands didn’t seem to know what to do. They were at his side, then behind his back like a soldier, then trying to pull the skirt infinitesimally lower.

Yuuri stood and, keeping his gaze locked on Victor’s wide blue eyes, he stepped forward. He circled Victor, the way Victor had done to him minutes ago. The sight was hypnotizing, almost torturous. Every exposed curve taunted him, begged him to step closer.

Then he was in front again. Victor’s expression had turned defiant, daring Yuuri to find something wrong. It was a facade. 

This was the design he had ordered, far more than he had ever envisioned. Victor was stunning in this dress, so much so that Yuuri didn't think he could move. He was now fully hard, stretching the fabric of his own costume.

This wasn’t his plan. He needed to take control of the situation before Victor saw how much this affected him.

“Is this what you wanted, Yuuri? Is this design everything you asked for?” Normally, Victor was a few inches taller than Yuuri. In these heels, he was god-like in stature. “You make the cutest face when you’re trying to hide a...” 

Victor’s voice faded to nothing when he stroked Victor’s bangs back out of his face and admired those sharp, charming features. It was a gentle gesture, one that stopped Victor from breathing at all. His hand paused on Victor's ear and for a moment they were both still. 

The height difference in those heels was a challenge to overcome, but Yuuri was up to the task. “If only your ears were pierced, we could get you matching earrings.” He leaned in even closer, breathing the words in his ear, and tugged his teeth at Victor’s earlobe.

Yuuri could feel the thrill run down Victor’s spine. “You’d look very pretty in those,” he added.

Victor cleared his throat, catching on to this game they were playing. Now he tried to take control. In one swift movement, he had Yuuri against the wall and rolled his hips against him. The palm of his hand found Yuuri’s hips, legs, and until he held it hard against Yuuri’s dick. On impulse, Yuuri grinding himself up against it. It wasn't enough.

Yuuri moved back to catch his breath. 

The whole ensemble was delicate and innocent and yet, powerful and imposing. He was something divine and untouchable, something like a flower, not to be touched or else it is ruined. And beneath that, he was ice or the night sky, dark and cold, far away and forbidding. It wanted you to call it wrong or unseemly, but it could never be ridiculous. The whole effect was obscene.

In essence, it was everything Yuuri had wanted. 

He stepped forward to take the damn dress off himself. 

Victor’s face lit with surprise and excitement at his advances.

Yuuri draped his arms over Victor’s shoulders, his fingers searched for the zipper. The devilish grin on Victor’s face flickered slightly as he fell backward into the wall, losing his balance at last on those heels.

The zipper wasn’t along the back of the dress. Yuuri was tempted to start tearing the thing off with his teeth when his mouth suddenly became preoccupied with something else. 

Victor's hand held Yuuri steady as he came in to kiss him. Finally able to seek some relief, Yuuri pressed in deeper, pinning Victor against the wall more completely. Victor’s mouth was pliant under his advances opening with a sharp intake of breath.

He broke away to gasp for air, blood rushing to his cheeks and to somewhere a bit lower. When he looked up again he met Victor staring back down at him.

“Yuuri,” began Victor, in that low, breathy tone he used to say his name in a way no one else could. “If you want something, all you have to do is ask for it.”

“Come to bed with me, Victor.” Yuuri did his best to sound commanding, or at the very least in control. The smile on Victor’s face did not help.

Somehow they made it to the bedroom, wrapped up in each other, tumbling their way to the mattress. The stilettos were cast aside as they entered; thrown against a wall as they descended on the bed. Victor landed first and looked up at Yuuri now, silver hair dashed across his eyes. 

“What now, Mr. Katsuki? You have me in your bed-” Yuuri caught his lips and silenced him with a kiss. He was too playful, too lewd, and Yuuri was deadly serious.

“You talk too much,” said Yuuri, leaving a trail of kisses along his lover’s neck. There was so much skin, so much of Victor, and he wanted all of it. “I can think of something better for you to do with your mouth.”

At last, Victor seemed speechless. His eyes shown bright, and his mouth hung agape. Yuuri moved back to let Victor sit up. They were face to face, so close. Victor closed his eyes and kissed Yuuri softly, slowly. This was like breathing, their rhythm as natural as a heartbeat.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

The costumes seemed to be impossible to take off. Victor’s hands, which could so readily extricate his partner from any normal pair of pants, had difficulty removing the one piece suit he’d selected for Yuuri. His attempts to remove the costume around Yuuri’s legs started to bring Yuuri a bit too close to the edge.

“I love it when you look at me like that,” said Victor as they tried to get Yuuri undressed.

“Like what?”

“Like I’m the only man who could ever satisfy you.”

Soon, Yuuri sat freed from his clothing at the edge of the bed. His legs dangled over the edge and Victor kneeled obediently between them.

They hadn’t bothered to take off Victor’s dress. In the heat of the moment, it seemed like far too much work. Yuuri wasn’t ready to see it on the floor and Victor was too eager to begin. The blue skirt fanned out over the upper edge of his thighs. There was a coquettish tilt to his chin as he admired Yuuri’s dick.

Victor leaned in and breathed hot air along his inner thighs. His hands gripped Yuuri’s waist before they traveled lower, raking across Yuuri’s bare legs, nails digging in at points, applying pressure at others.

“Victor,” said Yuuri, trying to keep the whine out of his voice. He needed no preparation. Just seeing Victor on his knees, staring up at his with dark shining eyes was enough to get him hard. 

Victor spread his legs and lifted up on his knees to get to the right height. With just his thumb, he swiped the first drops of precome from the tip and pressed it to his lips like a kiss.

He held the shaft in one hand, the other gripped Yuuri’s thigh. The whole process of Victor lowering his mouth to Yuuri’s cock was agonizingly slow. It seemed an eternity had passed before that elegant tongue ever found the length between his legs. 

Once it did, Yuuri gasped. He grasped at Victor’s hair, massaging, encouraging, and entreating him to continue. He buried his face in that silver hair, and Victor below, complied.

His tongue teased at his cock. Victor, his grin a wild thing now, refused to take the whole length at once. Yuuri’s arousal was red and achingly apparent, each flick of the tongue brought him closer and closer. He whimpered when Victor brought several inches into his mouth at once. 

Yuuri had only barely left his virginity behind, but it was clear that Victor was practiced. He made Yuuri slick and trembling as he stroked his cock at a gradually increasing pace. His grip tightened on Yuuri’s ass as he took it even deeper. Victor was drawing out Yuuri’s pleasure, with each loud, wet suck. It was all Yuuri could do not to take his own dick in hand and finish the job himself.

“Do you like getting on your knees for me?” asked Yuuri, his breath hitched as he spoke. “It suits you.”

As though he had needed time to prepare himself, Victor now moved to take the whole length. Yuuri moaned when Victor’s hot mouth met the base of his shaft. 

Yuuri wasn’t small. He had a dick of admirable size and Victor impressively took it all in. 

“Victor...” Yuuri began, trying to say something through the growing blind euphoria in his mind. 

Victor tried to look up at him, some of the length slipping from between his lips. His eyes shone with tears as he deep-throated all of him. This was too much.

Yuuri came with Victor’s name on his lips. Try as he might, some of the slick dripped down Victors' chin. The image of him shameless and sloppy, hair in complete disarray, filthy and flushed was unreal. Victor lapped at him until he was finished. 

At last, he lay back, an incoherent languid mess. Victor took the bed beside him and stroked the soft skin of his stomach. 

“You are gorgeous like this,” said Victor, his voice throaty and hoarse.

Yuuri rolled onto his side to face him and realized Victor was still in costume. He had been about to take Victor’s shaft in hand, to ply him with gratitude, but was met by the dark sheen of the dress’ under section, a piece of fabric like a bikini that barely contained him. 

The dress was wet.

“Looks like you’ll have to ask Chris how he gets those stains out.” said Yuuri, his breath hitching in between words. 

“You think I’ve never come in one of my costumes before?” asked Victor.

Yuuri made a clumsy move for Victor’s cock. “You’d better shut your mouth again before I make you come again. You’ll never be able to get it out.”

Their legs laced themselves together under the sheets. Yuuri rolled his hips against Victor and he felt Victor’s low laugh in his chest. 

“Such stamina, Yuuri,” he murmured. “If I ever get you to ride me, I don’t think I’ll be able to keep up.”

Eventually, Yuuri’s fingers found the small zipper in the dress; it was one of those useless ones hidden on the side seam of the outfit. It took some doing, but soon all of Victor was freed and Yuuri took all of him in. The dress was scandalous, no one ever saw that much skin on the ice. No one ever saw that much skin on Victor. No one but Yuuri.

His hands worked at Victor’s cock, still hard though slightly spent already. His long strokes were a bit rougher than Victor’s tongue had been. It wasn’t as teasing, it was direct and persuasive. Yuuri coaxed him to erection as Victor started a hickey on Yuuri’s neck. As Victor started to come again, he let out a low choking gasp.

“Y-you are so good, Yuuri. So, so good.”

Yuuri could feel his frantic heartbeat. He paused to press his lips to Victor’s and swallow his short, hot breaths.

“Yuuri,’ said Victor with an irresistible hunger in his voice.

Yuuri moved on top of him, straddling his waist with his spread legs. He pressed another kiss to Victor’s lips and began to work on his cock again. The pace was now more vigorous. Yuuri hadn’t mastered the slow and measured build up that Victor had perfected. He used his own passion and energy to get Victor off, coupled with sweet caresses that left Victor arching underneath him.

Victor was loud when he came. He threw his head back, exposing the blushing skin of his neck. How could someone be beautiful in even this, their most primal state? 

Victor reached up to Yuuri and stroked the black bangs from his face. It was soft and sweet and Yuuri leaned into his touch. 

They stayed like that, wrapped in each other’s arms, legs entangled gently, and heartbeats slowing. 

“Do you like it then?” asked Victor.  
“Yes.”

“Yes to what?” Yuuri couldn’t see Victor’s smile but he could hear it.

“Everything,” he said with a sigh. “Why did you pick that costume? Above everything else?”

Their thoughts were only of each other as they drifted into a drowsy haze. 

“I wanted the world to see you as I do. Everyone who sees you thinks they know you. I thought I did, but every day I learn something new about you. The Yuuri I saw in that costume is one that the rest of the world hasn’t seen yet, and I love him too.”

They lay there in silence. One finger stroked circles along the bone of Victor’s hip, savoring the sensation of being in bed beside him.

“Why did you choose the dress?” Victor couldn’t help the curiosity in his tone.

Yuuri laughed. “Isn’t it obvious?” he motioned slightly to their bodies together in bed. 

“You wanted to fuck me in a dress?” 

“There was more to it than that.” Yuuri paused, not sure how to put all his feelings into words. 

“It’s kind like what you said, about changing the way the world sees you. Part of me has known who you are my whole life. I’ve always looked up to you, five-time world champion, Victor Nikiforov. You’ve always been perfect and… intimidating. Since I’ve gotten to know you…” he was struggling for words again. 

“I know that that isn’t true,” he continued. “You’re not perfect. You have flaws like everyone else. You’re human and you can even be kind of an asshole at times.” Victor feigned injury. “That’s a Victor only I get to see. You, right here beside me, are a Victor only I know. I think that’s a Victor that would surprise the world. Part of me thinks you’re afraid to show that side of you and that amazes me.”

They let that statement hang there for a while. It was impossible for Yuuri to read what Victor was thinking, but he let it sink in.

At last, Victor turned to him, pressed his face to Yuuri’s chest, and breathed him in. “And you thought I looked hot in that skirt.”

They let themselves fall asleep, though it was the middle of the afternoon with the sun still hanging in the sky. Yuuri had a hard time closing his eyes. At times like this, it was hard to believe he wasn’t dreaming. He watched Victor’s chest rise and fall, and it all felt so absurdly real and surreal at the same time. 

Yuuri was lying in bed next to his fiance. They were physically coiled in one another, the sensation acting like a pinch on the arm to ensure him that this was indeed real. 

He looked at Victor’s serene face and took in every last detail, from the curve of his nose to every last eyelash to the redness still clinging to his slightly swollen lips. He wondered if Victor ever looked at him like this. Did Victor ever study his face and thank whoever had made it and whatever turn of fate had brought it to his side?

In his sleep, Victor mumbled something mostly incoherent to his breast. It helped remind him Yuuri had no reason to doubt that he did. Victor saw him in a way that no one else did and loved him for it. Perhaps that was the part that felt most surreal.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I live on feedback so please comment below and if you want you can scream at me on tumblr @keep-on-leggin !


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